Grid drop.

Its new years eve. I just realized its new years eve. What the fuck? 2015 tomorrow, right? Change the dates on your cheques, it you still use them. Make resolutions you will have broken by the end of January. Wonder what happened to the jetpacks we were promised, the clean energy. fairness, and a world that was fit for purpose. Then put on Candy Crush, scan through other people's problems, and forget all about it. Maybe next time.

This Week.

This week. Beth and I joined a 24 hour gym. its around the corner from where we live, and I really like t. The first time we went in, we were the only people there. I got to have a go on all the machines like a kid opening his xmas pressies. Next time we went it was a little fuller, and full of determination/ desperation. Everyone was cool, and just did there own thing. so, i'll be doing that, though more carefully, as I nearly tanked it getting off the exercise bike.
Monday was somewhat horrific, as I had an MRI. If you never have to have one, don't. I've had a few MRI's over the years, but for some reason this one freaked me out more than usual. I turned up having been out drinking gin the night before. I do not recommend being put in a vibrating coffin hungover, and a little dehydrated. They do give you a nice purple uniform to wear though.
My results were a lot better than I was expecting. My lesions are taking a breather, and my brain isn't under attack. Goody. I then find out that I can still do the Tysabri, with my odds of the awful at 3 in 10,000. Cool.
We have a Christmas tree, which looks great and smells very nice. I've almost un-scroogey, though I could do without carols in every shop.

Weather Vane.

I just woke up in a basement. That's the past few weeks covered.
 I know that  I have a mini parked in a garage that I've been driving about. Its cold and dark most of the time.  April will be nice, apparently. I know that there is a shed load of classic Doctor Who on Netflix. What I wasn't expecting, is just how good, and spooky, the Sylvester McCoy episode would be. That crappy licorice allsorts monster, has his doctor tarnished. Not fair at all, it turns out.
I'm listening to The Boomtown Rats on Mastertapes on radio 4. As soon as sir Bob stops pontificating, and lets the music kicks in, excellent!
I know that the shitty, cold months to come, are going to be more interesting than i've been giving them credit for. I was approaching winter with defeat made of MS. I thought I was done, until the weather changed. The weather is always going to change,  and its always going to be rough. But, its not impossible.

Round up.

Its freezing, I'm waiting for an idiot, to insist this polar blast must mean global warming doesn't exist. Ah,
that didn't take long. Ignorant fools always bleat the loudest.
"What are you, a weatherman?"
"Nope, I just like to deal in facts."
 I have this horrible feeling that the earth is going to dust us out, leaving only climate change deniers and cockroaches. I'm pulling for the roaches. I can see the last human and a flipped roach dying hand and leg together. They seem to pass, then the cockroach flips herself back up,and beckons her brethren who were hidden. And it begins again. Thats as likely as all the other bollocks people pitch.
Coffee 2.
This week was a little weird. I hit the infusion suite Monday, having got a cab there. Drug was whacked in. While I dozed, I remembered how much I loved walking around London.  I realized I was smiling and chuckling to myself and drew it in. Best not to look too happy doing something that dangerous.
Infusion in, what now? I knew I could phone the cabbie who dropped me off, but I fancied a chinese. Phoned my friend Yury, who dug out his car, and we drove around Gahanna looking for a good chinese.  Found an excellent one, Joy Food One. I know it sounds like it might be dodgy, but its great! Back home, watched films with Yury until I passed out. This happens after every infusion, everything is going great, then I wake up the next day. Woke up in an empty house. Yury was cool, and let me hit the coma button undisturbed.
The day after an infusion is weird,  as my blood spends it settling into a new defense formation. What to do? Peaky Blinders, a fantastic series from England. The first two series are on Netflix, I can heartily recommend them.
Today? Dunno. MS versus cold is always shit, but the house is nice and warm, and Beth and Abbey are coming back from Illinois today. Ah, better clear up..

Morning...

My coffee machine lets me know it can no longer be bothered to keep the coffee hot, by setting off an alarmingly loud beep, a warning of coming, cold coffee apocalypse. I looked at Amazon to check coffee machine was a description that people actually used. It is. Coffee machine? Sounds a little luddite. I receive warm brown liquid from my coffee machine, enter the falling water zone, and battle  yester-smell, and the hair of ill repute.

We went out drinking last night. As with any house or flat you will see me living in, food and drink emporiums are located within 150 yards. We went for an early dinner at 6:30. Things began to unravel drinking Christmas ale. I talked to someone from east London called Lewis, who is on holiday, in Columbus.. I didn't even think it was odd. Its a pub, of course someone else from England is in it. 

At 12 we figured it was time to come home. I've checked, I don't appear to have lost anything. Result. 

I have chucked down a couple of Advil, looking to head the hangover off at the pass. This never works, but its nice to give it a go.

By the skin of my teeth.

"I'll keep eating the sweets, you keep fixing them."
This is not something to say to your dentist, which I did. I went in yesterday for a cleaning. 4 hours later,  poorer than when I walked in, with a numbed face, and a vague memory that something significant had just happened, I came home and went to bed with the certain knowledge,
"Sweets are bad!"
But, I really like chocolate. Yes, but it hates me. Years ago a teacher of mine, Mr Longbottom, told me that he never carried change around with him,
"I'll just spend it on sweets."
Bless, I thought, this man has no self control. I now realize that Mr Longbottom's message was a warning,  sent from the future, to warn the young about the reconstructive nightmare that was coming. Bugger.
I did describe the nice work that was being done yesterday, as being in an episode of the pit and the pendullum, with a lovely smile at the end. So, no sweets then. Floss you idiot! Got it. This would mean a lot more if one of the people working there hadn't said,
"To be honest,  if I was rich enough, I'd take them all out, and whack in a false pair."
Another voice from the future? Lets hope not.

Reset.

 I stopped writing . Why? Because this is the time of year that everyone with MS hates, the move to winter. Once in, and its cold all the time, its a lot easier to deal with. The uncertainty of the day plays havoc with my MS, it doesn't know whether to hit the maximum fatigue button, cripple everything, or just reduce everything to dust. To be on the safe aide, it comes after everything. These weeks are difficult, as they are the time where despair can find a nice comfy spot to settle in.  Winter is always this bad, and living in Hawaii, seems like  a much smarter move.
What about England? Its much worse during the Winter, due to the damp, the Spring, due to the damp, Summer, when its too hot, or damp, and Autumn. Actually Autumn and Spring do have some nice days, just not enough.
Ok, whinging over. On the positive side, I did manage to catch Detectorists, which is a great new show on in England. Its fantastic in that quiet English way, where the awful merges from a sad smile. Its written, directed and starring someone I know, Mackenzie. I don't know if it will come to America, but its well worth watching if it does. Also, look out for This is England 86 and 88, much harder hitting, but is excellent.
"Did you spend these terrible weeks watching the telly?"
"Of course not. I scoured the web for new programs too. I streamed a lot of English radio. I like my terrible news delivered in a quiet, measured tone, and the music programmes are better."
I now get to hit the reset, and figure out what to do next. And despair? Can get fucked.

The Chair Downstairs

In Beth's Mum and Dad's basement, the is a chair. It an old style recliner, solid, no modern comfort gubbins. It is incredibly comfortable, and promotes deep sleep instantly. I know we went to Champaign; I know we had Steak and Shake ( if you get the chance, go there), I know we came back. The last thing I remember is going to the basement, and putting my clothes in the dryer.

The next thing I remember is waking up, convinced that I'd just heard a discussion    where Brian May explained that Queen and The Smiths, came from the same punk background. I'm sure I didn't hear that anywhere.

Clothes ready, chair in repose. Left the basement with my dry clothes, knowing that the chair would be rocking itself after  I left....

Weathered.

What the fuck? Wednesday will be sunny, or, 39 degrees and cloudy.
 "The sun is trying to make an appearance."
"Its not trying hard enough. Like your predictive powers, the weather has decided to be really shitty."
"There's no need for that…."
Quite right. There is no need for a badly dressed, terrible guesser, who would be better off spending their time practicing their serious, "Get to the basement!" face, to prepare for their dream day, when the tornado sirens go off, and its not aWednesday test. Where's my jumper? Brr….

Facetimed.

I just spent an hour on FaceTime with some really good friends of mine, Brody and Carolyn, who I saw in Broadstairs when I was back in England. It was great, and being FaceTime? Free. I don't know how that works. Skype is the same, you can do transatlantic video conferencing for nothing, though there may be some huge psychic cost, somewhere down the line.
Ankle still shit, but my day has improved an awful lot. Hair cut. Tomorrow? It has to be tomorrow. Unless its today.

Recycl...

Today is the day, that the recycling needs to go out. I need to put the full bin in the alley, where it will be picked up. However, I know I can't walk down the garden to do it. My ankle is kicking again, because I hauled out a heavy bag of rubbish two days ago. Also, the garden is laden with traps, which Abbey has been digging on and off for months. The last time I said, "Fuck it, I'll do it anyway", I ended up in a heap on the garden floor, surrounded by rubbish bags I'd launched around me. So, no recycle for you.
I would like a haircut though. I've been meaning to get one for weeks. I was going to say that my sprained, crippy ankle stopped me, and it did a bit, but, I really couldn't be bothered to sort anything out. I'm off to Illinois for a week, tomorrow or Thursday, so my tine is up, and I need to get it done. I realize this may look like bitching about nothing, but the inability to do what you want, because you're body isn't in sync right now, its enormously irritating.
I did read about the guy who's paralysis was cured, by using stem cells taken from his nose. The stem cells in the nose are the only ones which keep repairing themselves as you grow older. Hmm. If it could repair the myelin sheath? That would be an interesting fix for MS. And they still can't cure the common cold.

Change?

Today is a little cold. According to the Farmer's Almanac winter is going to be a little later than we expect. but dire. Shit. I got to enjoy summer this year, having missed it, whacked out on anti-neuralgic nerve pain drugs last year. I was just getting into it.
Now is the time I always think we should live somewhere more temperate. I know everyone else loves the seasons, I fucking hate them. I know when winter kicks in, thats pretty much it for me until spring. When spring comes things will get odd, as the season changes, then it will settle down for a while. Hoorah?
Sod that, what I'm actually pissed off about  is that if the blood test I just did comes up badly, I'll have to stop doing the infusions, and transfer to tablets, which may or may not help. This is very different to the lead up to starting the infusions, when I was so scared of the death it would probably cause, if it went wrong. I really wanted to be on the tablets back then.
Funny thing is, having risked my life 27 times doing the drug, I've grown quite fond of it. The infusion suite is great, everybody's cool, and the Tysabri does its job. What I don't want, is to spend winter glaring at a bottle of pills I don't trust.
 Having said that, it does open my time up, as  I don't have to be in that room once a month, without fail. I can plan my holidays, without worrying about when I can leave, or when I have to come back. And the pills might work, when I have to transfer to them. Much better. As you were.

Hell Oasis

I actually thought of the title of this blog a few days ago. I hadn't written anything all week, and this was the first thing I thought  of. Hell Oasis. I like it, its a bit odd. Have I been in hell for a week? No. My infusion ran out, and I  slept through most of it. Left the house a bit, where I always had a good time, including Friday in the infusion suite, where I saw blood spurt out of my arm as the nurse was trying to get a line in.
"Which vein did you hit?" I pondered, as the remarkably crimson red fled. Line fixed, a sample was taken, as my odds of total destruction are adjusted every three months. My dangerous drug of choice was then piped in for an hour, while I napped.
Drug in, I then started the hour of,
 "You're not going to drop dead, right?"
Went to the basket picked out some chocolate, got a coffee and sat down. Chatted to the women in the chair next to mine, who said,
"I knew it was MS, you're not supposed to go blind in one eye forever over night, are you?"
"I don't think so", was my somewhat worried response.
 Chipolte for dinner, which I really like, and I had a very relaxing evening, considering. Hell Oasis? Thats about right.

Balance.

I knew something was up today. It took a while to kick in. When it did, my sense of balance was taken. I was walking backward, and realized I wasn't going to stop. Its not a sensation like tripping, falling or making a mistake that you try to correct as best you can. Its the moment when I realize that something has changed, which I can do nothing about, except try and rest it out, to see if it fucks off. It hasn't fucked off, but its lost a lot of its vim, and is currently sulking, because I won't let it out to play.

Bestest.

This afternoon, out of the house, Easy Street this time, with Andy and his lovely bride to be, Tracy. Andy asked me to be his best man a few months ago, and today was the first time I've met Tracy. She's really cool, though hearing the best man was English (great, her mum is English, she used to live in England) and, a stand up (Oh), I kept telling her that she has no need to worry, I know the difference between the English best man's speech, a kick in for the groom, and the American version, lovely, where the only problem I have is to make sure I say just how amazing everyone looks!
This wedding is going to be great, I can't wait. Well, i can wait until next October, which is when it is.

Full Odd.

Up. Toast,  crunchy cookie butter, coffee, and a banana. Managed to get the rubbish out, with only a remote warning twang from my ankle. did get out of the house yesterday. Wandered down to Thurman. i was sitting trying to decide whether to go to Easy street or Thurman, when wo people walked up.
"Where can I get a coffee?" said the nice lady, as her partner, with a well swept grey ponytail, stood stoically beside her.
"I'd say Easy st. Thurman is great, but you probably can't get in, and if you can, it will be packed."
"How far is that?" said the languid Peter Fonda look a like.
"Its just there," I said, pointing.
"Cool."
I then found out the lady had just flown in from LA, where its 110 degrees, and that she had drunk all the beer they'd bought, in the car on the way to the airport. They are staying at Ronald Macdonald house. Oh. Here to help, got it. They then left to coffee up in Easy Street.
Well, that makes that decision easier, Thurman it is. Not because they were unpleasant, i kind of liked them. What I didn't want to do was turn up at the place i'd sent the people I'd just met, forcing unnecessary pleasantness, edged with stalker odd. Too English?
 I then walked into Thurman, said I wanted a take away, and ended up in the take away shop next door. This may have been a good move. I know all those people, and drinking was certain. Bought my huge take out home, and sat looking at it for 10 minutes mumbling,
"What have I done?"
Turns out I'd done well, it was great! Then I watched the first episode of Stalker, and completely freaked myself out. And I was really full.

Home Alone Day 4.

Yesterday? Fucked into dust. Today? Fucked-ish. I'm playing the MS lottery, where you never know what ticket you are going to pull, if you can pull the ticket at all. I'd say my ankle is a lot better, but I'd say it quietly, as I don't want to jinx the recovery. So today, leave the house. For fucks sake leave the house. As I wrote before, not so much lazy as trapped. Trapped? Get to fuck, I shall be proudly limping down the road, at some point, today…?

Home Alone Day 3.

Beth and Abbey are still down in Illinois. The house is still in once piece, tidy even. I had a great evening with my mate Stewart last night. We spent the evening eating  brie, crackers and grapes, drinking, and catching him up on the episodes of Doctor Who he had missed.

 I woke up a little late today, 9:30, as I had no Abbey alarm clock to get me out of bed by 6. Puttered about,  and checked the weather, crap. Made coffee, had a nice breakfast and checked out what condition my ankle is now in. Not as bad as yesterday. Phoned England. My niece really likes the xylophone i got her for her birthday, cool. Ended up chatting to a really good friend of mine for nearly 2 hours, bless you Skype, where I think we sorted out  all the world's problems. Apparently, everyone has to just chill the fuck out. 

Price.

I've known for a long time that I cannot be bought. Is it because I'm such a moral sort? No. Is it that I'm hugely wealthy? No. its because no one can pay the price it would take. You would have to cure MS, and fix all the damage. Then, we could talk about anything you like. Other than that, if I'm not interested,? Jog on.

Monday Musing.

Beth went down to Illinois yesterday, leaving me on my own in the house until Thursday. I did what I always do when I get the house to myself, spend a couple of hours watching what I want on the TV, eat snacks, fall sleep, and then wake up, over-full, wondering when Beth and Abbey will be back. Thursday, got it.
I was going to write that I haven't  really seen anyone over the weeks since I got back,  with my manky ankle knackering me going out much. This isn't true, I have seen people since I got back. My issue is what it always is, MS means I live my life as a blip on the radar. When I'm around people, I always enjoy the company and have a good time. What I can't do, is be around consistently. I get wiped out all the time, lose weeks, months and last year, most of the year.
 I'm still around, and have fun when I can.
I'm finally getting better at dealing with my enforced stops, though not perfect. I still see time slip away, and do fuck all about it, except read , change the channels, or stream more radio from England. I am over feeling guilty for not doing what everyone else does. I felt lazy for years. I was wrong about that. Truth is, if I was well, I'd still be doing exactly what I wanted,  and getting paid performing as much as I could. i was never slightly interested in a proper job, which I know means I never got to build daily work relationships. No bad thing, as my tolerance for bullshit is nil, and I don't think I would have done too well.
Is that a rationale, for being really sick and unable to be normal? Probably. Fuck it, Up really early having coma'ed yesterday out. Coffee, a banana,  and Radio 6. Tunes!

Keening .

I was asleep. I was happy to be there. I don't remember the dream, but it felt like it was good, with no running whilst being chased involved. Then the keening started. Abbey had decided that if she was awake, I needed to be awake. I disagreed, and tried to settle back into whatever it was that she'd made me leave. I moved from the bed to the chair, reasoning that I was pitching some pyschological genius move, where the movement from up to down would cause immediate dog napping. No, it wouldn't. Keening continued. I got up and went downstairs reasoning,
"Well it must be nearly 6 am, right?"
It was in the same day, but some hours out. I now have a pooch who is wandering about, wondering whats happened to breakfast, confused, but with no keening. I can't see the win on either side for this one.

Fun Food Coma/ International Ankle Fuck Buggery.

The brisket I had for lunch was amazing. They have it every wednesday at Brownbag. Like any really good meal, it causes near immediate food coma. Today, I welcomed the nap. My ankle is either re-buggered, or never really fixed itself, and has been sat waiting to fuck me up, whenever it got bored. Thanks very much. The news reports on Kim Jon Un's ankle are not helping, it looks awfully familiar. Bugger.

Full Circle.

Over a year ago I stood in my bathroom, watching my wedding ring think about bouncing off the grill, change its mind, and take the heating duct straight down to the basement. There it lived, with me looking at the heating duct grill I meant to replace, and sending my best wishes down to the basement. I knew that we were going to have to cut the duct work out to get at the ring. So there it lived.
Until this morning, when the duct work was stripped out, and the ring came in from the cold. I don't know what adventures the you've been on for the past year and a half, but I'm glad to have you back.

Sunday.

Today is skttting along. I was up at 6, made the coffee, fed the dog, had a banana, wandered back upstairs, put on my new episodes of Doctor Who , and passed out, until 1:30. The day looks quite nice,  and my ankle is  a bit better, i don't really want to do anything, though I know the good weather is on its way out. Now listening to Mark Kermode's film podcast. And that's it.
 I'm sure something will come up, it usually does.

Injury Negotiation.

Today I got up late for me, 8am. My ankle decided to remind me that I needed to ice it again, which I just did. Its now aching less, a distant but persistent murmur, 

"I'm not gone yet you know…" A terrible date mistake, that keeps turning up at events you were looking forward to. Bugger.

"I need to catch up on the rest I've been ignoring for weeks anyway, so nah!"

"Ok. See you around…"

I know its odd personifying injuries, but I've been doing it for years. Ever since my MS ignored the deal I tried to cut with it at the start. I had what felt like a snake swimming in my left foot, still one of the freakiest things thats ever happened to me. I couldn't really walk, but i figured,

"Just leave my left hand out of it, so I can still write, ok?"

"No."

The snake in my foot went on its way, and I then lost my left hand for 2 months. I could not feel anything, you could put a coin in my hand, and I wouldn't know it was there. I did physiotherapy for weeks trying to get it back. The first time my physiotherapist had me sign my name? Could have been anything, it looked like hieroglyphics.

She then had me taking pieces out of a board and  then putting them back in.  The first time idid it I took over 10 minutes. By the end, I could do it in less than 15 seconds. 

It was a pain in the arse, but I saved a ton of money, as I couldn't sign any cheques, and the internet wasn't in full bloom yet.

So…the ankles going be fine,

"I've beaten far bigger problems than you."

"Oh….'

Still a bit limpy though.

Family.

Beth and I just spent Friday to Tuesday in Illinois. This trip we saw a lot of family, and I got to be around them a lot more then usual.We would often all meet at a parties full of people This time we got to relax, and be around each other for a while. I'm really glad we did, I like all of them, a lot. They are all very different, save one thing, they are all resolutely themselves. It was a pleasure to spend time with them.

Morning.

I'm in Illinois. Very nice chinese last night, which caused an immediate happy food coma. Sleep was interrupted  by Abbey, nudging me awake at 6am. Nice breakfast with plenty of fruit and a lovely melting cinnamon roll. Ankle improving,  its now more like a sulky teen, being dragged to a family event it has no interest in.
"God! Do I have to? Really?!"
"Yes you do. Quit bitching and get hitching."

United by Toff dislike.

Ankle improving. Last night I lay with my leg up, ankle iced, listening to Radio 4, as the results of the Scottish referendum came in. I listened for hours, as I realized I didn't want Scotland to go, but I didn't want the smug toffs to win either. Conundrum.
The result came in 45% Yes 55% No. You stay, brilliant, but that should send a clear message, right? You would think so, though Cameron's smug, this is settled, no re-runs, and my pants have stopped filling face, doesn't fill me with hope . Hope for him that is, we are going to be just fine. Nice to still  have you with us Scotland, now stitch them up on the deals they threw out, whilst they were panicking.

Bad date

My sprained ankle is hanging about like a brutally slow moving dinner, with someone you have just realized you don't actually like.
It all seemed like it was going to be great, but as the conversation died into dust, and every subject hit ignorance roadblocks at every turn, you know you can't leave as quickly as you would like.
 Go to the bathroom. A respite, but don't take too long. They already hate the restaurant, don't give them room to denounce the food as poison.The walk back from the bathroom is heavy and sad. Hours seem like days. When will this be over? That's a sprained ankle.

Ah...

Yesterday, all sorts happened. The infusion went well, and my left foot was so bad I could barely walk on it. Everyone who saw it said the same thing,
"You have had that checked out, right?"
"Its just a sprain."
"Go and get that checked out, now."
It hurt like fuck, so I decided to take the advice of everyone who'd seen me hobbling about.
"Nothing's broken, right?"
"Go and get that checked out."
Beth came to get me from the infusion suite and we set out to find an urgent care. We ended up at Martha Morehouse, where I'd spent a lot of last year doing physiotherapy. We had to wait quite a while, hearing the run on bronchitis echoing around us. The doctor walked in.
"X-rays."
"Oh."
I then found myself on a table holding the lead genital shield, popping different moves whilst the X-rays were taken. Back to the room, coughing playing out in the distance. The doctor came in..
"Nothing's broken, its all tissue damage." This is the do some exercise you tubby twat diagnosis.
He then told us he'd be working out in the gym until the day he died. Right.
Came home. Beth gave me back the iPod classic she'd taken to the apple store. I presumed it was dead, and she could get a discount on something. They took it out the back, it works! the light on the screen doesn't, but all the music I thought I'd lost, is still there. I'm listening to it now. None of the crap I get from my iPhone. It doesn't tell me about emails or Facebook bollocks. It just plays music. Ah….glorious.

Reality nibbles.

I have, having yelped like a small girl most of last night, a support sock on my left foot. Guess what? Its way better, my legs and feet aren't tip top, but they are no longer a dip into some hellish crevasse that I can't even see. Coffee and a few chocolate cookies are in. I feel a banana would probably help, though I keep hearing,
"Bananas? Awful! Sent by the devil. A curvy, yellow liar."
What? Who didn't get their payoff? Somebody lobbied very hard for that, and is now sitting on a comfy self entitled chair, with a smile you could punch, humming a tune that nobody knows. Cock.
I've been keeping an eye on the Scottish referrendum. What do I think? It would be nice to keep the union, but unfortunately we have toffs fighting our corner. And nobody likes toffs. Except them, and they love themselves enough, until reality descends in a dark room. Then its over.
Either way will be a mess, but sometimes thats needed, to clear the air.
Having had the appointment cocked up last week, today is infusion day. Up until the support sock, I couldn't see how I was going to leave my house. I now can. Goody. Chocks away for the dangerous, yet very effective blood barrier. Odds, still not awful, have at it.

A couple of days of the long knives.

I sprained my left ankle. I don't know how, or when, but come Thursday, I couldn't walk on it. Then the night set in. As it got darker my right leg packed up. It stiffened, and I couldn't band it  at the knee. at all. I struggled upstairs to go to sleep. I then began to shake with cold, though my forehead was hot, Beth told me. Bugger. I went through what this could mean over and over. The sprained ankle was a pain, the worrying part was the loss of the right leg. The fever didn't help.

Friday.  The sprained ankle was still pain on a stick,the right leg still sulking, fever had given up for a while. The ankle and the leg suddenly seemed to come around. I know I'll get the rubbish out, take it down the garden. They were lying. As I lay on the ground, having just tanked it, with two newly bruised fingers, and a brocade of thrown rubbish bags. I figured I should just let everything heal. Fever made a reappearance in the evening.

Saturday. The sprain is beginning to heal, I put my leg up all of yesterday, following the fall. Cheers beth, who made me do it. Right leg? A lot better, now bends at the knee, and is sort of usable. Fever? Who knows.

The days were frightening, as they were following the course of a massive MS attack. I was figuring out how we could use a wheelchair in the house. and how fast we could move somewhere else. How glad I was to have made my last trip to England, as I wouldn't be able to go back for a very long time. But everything settled. So, as you were.

Cold? Get off.

Its a bit cold. I was just getting used to it being a lot hot. Bugger. Its going to stay a bit cold? I can deal with that. Just make your mind up. That's hopeful as I know its going to be all over the place for months, until it settles into savagely awful cold until next April. Bollocks.
I got to see a lot more of the summer this year, having had last year wiped out by the tri-geminal neuralgia thingy, which meant most of last year was spent in a drugged out fugue, trying to back it off. I'm owed extra summer! Have at it.

Reality check.

I've been up a while, having fallen asleep/passed out early last night. The fuck up with the infusion, I'll be getting it next Tuesday, hit me harder than I expected. I think it's because I spent the last few weeks in England hitting it with a shovel, my devil may care attitude dependent  on the drug repair I thought was coming. Which is why I can't be too sore about it.
I'm usually quite sensible. Fuck it, no I am not. I look to do what I want, and pay as I go. I was counting on the pain discount, which just got delayed. It's a bit annoying, but doable. Have I learned a valuable lesson? To be honest, I knew what was coming. I did it anyway.

Cluster Drop.

I was having my infusion today. Was. Breakfast with Lusher was interrupted by a phone call, informing me that there were billing problems and todays drug hadn't even been sent. Oh. Beth got on the case, and found out that the problems were way more involved than that, but they could have been solved last week.
"Somebody dropped the ball", was the phrase used. Everything got sorted out very quickly, the infusion is now set for next week. Am I pissed off? Not really, though any plans I had to see anyone this week, just got shelved until next Wednesday. As cluster fucks go, this one was quite manageable. I didn't even have to employ my maximum Hugh Grant to get something done. Gosh!

Rip Van Sunday.

Sunday? Yeah, its still Sunday. Beth told me earlier today that I needed to stay up and sort out my sleeping patterns. She is  right, though MS, a dying infusion, jazz weather, and a comfortable bed seem to have other ideas. This American Life pootling along in the background, well worth getting up for.
I know I ate well today, and this evenings dinner is looking good. What else I can manage today? Up for debate.

What to do?

I'm up really early again, the result of sleeping in a different time zone for the last few weeks, and passing out at will, whatever time of the day it is here. I've caught up on the new doctor Who episodes, Capaldi is excellent, and bottled out of watching Salems Lot on my own, in the dark, at 3am. Its the figure hovering at the window. I just spent the last week at my Dad's with a window looking out over the dark countryside, no curtain.
What to do? I'm still two days away from repair, my infusion is Tuesday, and I haven't left the house since I got back last week. Beth has been bringing in ever healthier, and delicious food, keeping me in one piece. I know I want to find my next thing to do, but I have no idea what it is. I'm sure it will strike me as obvious, when it comes up.

Hmm...

I woke up as I was hot. I'm still a little uncomfortable, but not the mess that emerged a couple of hours ago. Is it another drastic weather change? Down into the 70's from a high of 92 yesterday? Is it that my monthly infusion is pretty much done? My new one is on Tuesday. Or, is it the half mini keg of heineken that I drank last night, coupled with a late night pizza? Hmm….

Heat

The last two mornings, the first one was dust, I've settled back in to playing in the garden with Abbey for an hour or so, to start by day. It gives me time to try and sort out my walking, always rubbish first thing, and gives Abbey the opportunity to run around before it gets too hot. Its supposed to get to 92F today. She gives me the opportunity to assess my problems daily, and I really appreciate it. Even if she doesn't appreciate my adherence to the 6am is breakfast rule.

Memory.

I'm awake. Coffee, banana,  and a couple of biscuits. Its 4:56. Bugger. I woke up out of a dreadful dream, which ended with me in my nan and granddad's bathroom, as I really needed a poo. Glad I woke up, poo was indeed needed.
Emptied and refilled the dishwasher. World service on the radio, with a firm yet reasonable take on why the world is going to shit, which appears to be this morning's theme. Its now transferred to NPR, where the awful is a little more shrill.
 I'm waking up, thank you very much coffee. Always there doing a job everyone needs, then bitches about the effect as they've drunk too much, for the rest of the day. Now they are talking about the importance of the study of the coffee genome on NPR. Well, respect was due.
The day has started. I'm still a little shaky on where I am exactly. I do know, but I spent the last few weeks in the comfortable nest of the past, where the sights and the sounds were full of  good memories, and rules that I understood.
Do I want to leave? No I don't. As I said, great memories, where I got to ignore how difficult my health got by the time I left. A place that I love visiting, but I live here now, doing an awful lot better, and I'm building new great memories as I go.

Where am I?

I am up, having spent most of yesterday asleep. I was woken up by a phone call at one point. The conversation went like this,
"Mr Dowd, I'm phoning to confirm the delivery of your order."
I took a second, to remember who Mr Dowd was.
"Oh, thank you. Can you send it to America, I'm in England at the moment, but I live there."
Cue some consternation at the end of the line. I looked around the room and realized where I was.
"Ah, my mistake, I'm in America."
"Yes Mr Dowd."
"And you're sending me the stuff here?"
"Yes."
"Of course you are. I thought I was still in England. I'm awake now, thanks for the call."
"Have a nice day Mr Dowd."
"Thanks. sorry about that."
This happens to me every time I've been back to England. Every time.

Weather???

I fell asleep on the couch. I woke up to the climax of Dodgeball. Its going to be really hot, right? Philly was 92F better get my shorts out. 67F what the fuck? I've been telling everyone in England how I was coming back to a furnace. Its warmer over there! Of course this is Columbus, the weather can do anything between now and lunchtime...

Trip.

8:30 this morning, got into my cab for Heathrow. a lot easier trip than I thought, got there by 10. Flight was at 12:15. Having admitted the tMS and airports do not mix, got wheelchair assistance to get me through security. I had reached the point where I dreaded going to an airport, I couldn't see how I could do it.
 With the wheelchair assist, and the jolly bus to the gate, I defy anyone to make it through the airport quicker. Start to gate? 15 minutes. Got on the plane to Philly. I knew I had an aisle seat, but it was on the edge of a four. The plane was kind of empty, 4 seats for me! Watched a fantastic film, ate great food and spent a  lovely 7 hours crossing the atlantic.
Philly, fantastic help, immigration to gate 20 minutes, maybe. The plane was then delayed, due to severe weather. Got on it, blagged two seats for myself, and watched out the window as the sky was ripped part. We'll just wait then. And wait we did, about an hour and a half on the runway. No one fancied challenging the lightning, so we settled in. Got to Columbus, and home. in about 30 minutes. For a crip, I have an amazing turn of speed.
Nice to be home.

Out

I'm ready, sort of. There's a couple of bits still  to do, but over all, on the case. I think my case is underweight this time, which will mean I don't have to stand at the desk shuttling shoes and clothes into an ever more uncomfortable carry on.
This has been a trip that I made for the saddest reason, but I get to leave knowing that I got to see the amazing life that I had here,  all the family and friends that I love, that I keep close, and will be with me, always.
Now, where did I put that passport……..?

Travel Awakening.

Today, we went to Sainsburys. I picked up all sorts of odd flavours of crisps for people to ooh and ah over. We then went to a greasy spoon in Markyate, where I ordered the full English. Lovely…back to the house, where the packing waits. I'll just have a quick nap….6:21. Ah!! Its Tuesday! I'm not ready!

Still Monday? Whew…! Dinner? Nap? No! Get packing, immediately! Well, soon-ish….

Packing…..

I need to pack. I'm leaving early tomorrow, so my usual chuck everything I can find, five minutes before the taxi turns up, isn't going to work.  Its a lot more fun sitting writing about what I need to do, rather  than actually doing it. That won't work, right? Bugger.

Morning Last.

Today is my last day in England for a while. The reason for coming back, my nan's funeral, was very sad, though it has been great to catch up with friends I hadn't seen for over a year and a half, and family at the wake, I hadn't seen for years.  I didn't get to do everything I wanted to do on this trip, things were a lot more complicated than I thought they would be. What I did realise, is that I love knocking around England, and I'll be back a lot sooner next time.
If I missed you, I'm sorry about that, a lot had changed while I wasn't looking. Mum and Cat on the coast, England v MS a little worse than I remembered. But, England is gorgeous, and I have the best family and friends anyone could dream of. I've had a great time, I'm already looking forward to my next visit.

Sleep Doctor.

Today, the last couple of weeks catch up. I am really tired. I know I have to get myself in some sort of shape for Tuesday, when I fly home. I've got Into The Dalek streaming on BBC Iplayer. Capaldi is top notch, this series is going to be great! I think I'll let everybody else run around for a bit...

Dinner.

Somewhat trashed, coffee in hand to take the edge off. That was a fantastic evening! dinner with a lot of people i'd never met, all of them cool. Great food, booze and chat. The sort of evening i dream of. Props out to Dad and Helen, Top night!

Morning has...

Up. Coffee, banana, radio 4, and a drizzle outside, washing the day in. Since we got Abbey, I have turned into a morning person. Before, I would stay up all night, and start the day half way through, mid day, maybe. The first thing I noticed when I started to get up earlier is the people I'd never seen before, pootling about with a purpose, perfectly happy. What's all that about? I wondered. I know now that its the ability to start the day at your own pace, before the necessary butts in.
At home I find myself in the garden with Abbey, playing for a few hours, as the day wakes up, cars humming by, the sound of the city yawning itself awake. This morning, in the country, I stood outside in the spitting rain, watching the clouds trying their best to lighten everything up, as the birds stirred in the trees. Which sound do I prefer? The country or the coast is my preference, though there is a beauty to the determined push of a city morning.

Snapshot.

I took a nap/immediate coma stop this afternoon. I just woke up, quite peppy. I wonder whats been going on? Terror threat level raised, dum de dum, England dripping with Peodos, well they are though aren't  they? Russia acting up, cold war? its bloody freezing over there! Hang on, millions of historic pictures available for free download on Flickr? Oh, thats amazing, and a force for actual good. Everything else, as you were.

Not as easy as it looks.

Having tried the toaster myself this morning, I can see now how its easy to get it wrong. I figured 2 and a half minutes, thats alright, not too long, right? Wrong.
My toast did not arrive ablaze, but it was a little charred, leaving the toaster with a really? You didn't learn anything from last night? look. Fair point. This Dualit takes no prisoners, I think anything over a minute may be pushing it. I sat chastened, and quietly munched my barbecue toast.  Lesson learned.

Toast.

Having had a lovely dinner with Becky and Reid, I came home and went straight to bed.
I was woken from my reverie by the smell of burning. Did I set the house on fire by accident? Bugger. How am I going to explain this one? Came down stairs, following my nose to the scene of the crime, and found my dad binning the toast he'd just burnt. Whew! Now up super early, and awake, having had a coffee to chill the toast apocalypse out.

Odd.

When I tell people how long I've had MS, 22 years, they always look sideways at me.
"Really?"
 is the spluttered line I've heard a lot, from friends and medical professionals. To be honest, not really. Its been going on for more than 25 years, 22 is when I found out.
You are only supposed to take the Tysabri infusion for 2 years, before it gets too dangerous, and you have to find something else. My next infusion will make it 27 months. I have been diagnosed once with the JC virus, which should have been an automatic stop. But, the next two blood draws, came back negative.
Wha'….? Their eyes seem to say. My odds dropped a long way, 7000, but I'm still less than 1 in 3000 from doom. They are a little confused, and somewhat baffled. I'm quite happy to be odd.

Lifted

I'm listening a to a program on shoplifting the 18th century, based on the trial transcripts at the Old Bailey. Shops had just been opened, and shopping was the fashionable thing to do. The shop keepers were so worried about crime that they managed to get a law passed through parliament, making shoplifting a crime that could be punished by execution. I know this sounds ridiculous now, but no more than imprisoning someone for life in America, for stealing a pair of socks and earning their third strike.
 Of course there are people who do this for a living, but this law, like so many others, lands hardest on the shoulders of the poor. There may come a day when the world is balanced, and fair. Really? Not in our lifetime. Injustice does make for super songs though.

Loss.

I know I haven't dealt with my nan's death yet. I've been back, meeting people I hadn't seen for a long time, having a lot of fun, but I know i haven't accepted her loss properly. I can feel that it is coming, I just don't know when. it wasn't at her funeral, not even when I saw her in the casket at the funeral home. So when? No idea, but its going to be messy when it gets here.

Connected

We live in a connected world. Everyone wants to be connected, at all times. Isn’t that great? No, it is not. What it means, is that the voices of those who you used to duck and cover to avoid, are now everywhere, spraying their ignorant, misinformed crap all over the words you love. I have seen the words better and magnificent, reduced to meaning nothing at all, to doubt that blessed ever really meant anything, that friends could make anyone feel that lucky all the time, particularly if you don’t really know them.

We live in a time where access to shouting is way too easy. Wasn’t it always that way? It was, but we used to be able to ignore cry of the closed mind, without getting RSI deleting it.

In sight.

a few years ago, I used to read for the blind on their radio station. I really enjoyed it, and looked forward to going to the studio, to read out whatever I was given. You are given a soundproof room, a simple computer sound studio to run, and you just get on with it. Loved it.
I had to stop when my MS started to collapse, and my reading and thinking  got very difficult. I'm a lot better now, I think I'd like to go back and do that again. I've thought about reviewing films, once eyes open, and again eyes shut, to see how the people I used to work with, perceive the film. Or, read out Hello magazine, I was really good at that!

No, I don't want to stay friends.

Years ago, when I got dumped, I was then shouted at, as I had no interest in remaining friends. The last thing I said to this person was,
"What are you getting so rampy about? You dumped me, go away."

Or

"No fuck? No blowjob? Fuck off!"

Female version:

"No orgasm, ever. Go away and get some skills. And for god's sake, get a manicure! Now fuck off!"

Any bloke confused by the manicure line? Its the reason you keep finding yourself alone.
To be clear, she didn't limp away, because you are the king of cock.

Ribbit!

I was just getting ready to write this blog, about a great evening with Sam and Dad, plowing our way through most of a local chinese takeaway, when I saw movement on the kitchen floor, out of the corner of my eye. I presumed it was a country mouse. i looked, and saw it wasn't moving fast enough. It was a frog, stranded and somewhat confused. What to do?
I thought, frogs don't bite,right? I looked for some paper towel to help carry him out. This frog was pretty big. Hmm….. A plastic bin sat empty across the kitchen. My walking stick was close by. Solution! I got him into the bin, where he attempted to jump out, and released him outside. Can I have my countryside warrior badge now?

They call it soggy Monday….

Coffee in, rain out and about. Its a drizzle that sticks around, the guest at the party, that doesn't do that much damage, but eats too much of the food, tells tales of themselves that were not interesting the first time, and will not leave. The sun is currently acting as your best mate, who promised to stick about and help, and then knacked off to the interesting party down the road.

Sunday.

Spent the day/ evening down at Studhambury with Cath, Joe and Sean. Hoot start to finish, the bands were all good, the company was fantastic. Back at my dad's house, he's still out running the tracks. White chocolate Toblerone I think...

Match Report

Beth and I flew into England last saturday. We had a great veining in Studham with my dad and then joined my mum at the Old Palace Lodge in Dunstable, ahead of my nan's funeral on Monday. The funeral, at a small chapel at a graveyard in Dunstablewas lovely, exactly what my nan would have wanted. Kev, Cat and I gave readings. My brother and sister are fantastic public speakers, I think nan would have loved it.
The wake, at a room in The Old Palace Lodge was excellent. The spread they put on would have tickled my nan, who could make a full buffet for 50 using only a carrot, a lump of cheese, and half a loaf of bread. How she made the trifle? A mystery which will never be solved.
The wake was full of relatives I haven't seen for years. It took less than five seconds for everyone to settle in. On a terrible day, it was the best thing that could have happened
Dad picked us up on Tuesday. we went to sainsburys, emptied the chocolate and crisp aisles, and got some really nice flowers to put on nan and granddad's grave. Lunch in a cafe at the top of dunstable downs, which are stunning. back to Studham, great evening.

Wednesday. Dad gave us a lift to Broadstairs, where Mum now lives. Its a gorgeous seaside town. Spent the afternoon playing with my niece Aria and my nephew Harry.Phoned Brody, who lives down there. Out for an evening of fish and chips, beer and fireworks, with a late night tour of Ramsgate and Broadstairs with Brody's wife Carolyn at the wheel and his son Harry in the back with Beth and Steve. Amazing.
Thursday. Dad picked us up as Beth was flying back to America on Friday. Another top night.
Friday. Beth left early, and the reality of what I'd been doing for the last few days began to settle in. That was a lot of drinking. what to do? Luckily Friday we went to a great restaurant for Helen's sister Joanne's birthday. drinking did not stop, but was held a little in check. Beth, having been delayed in Philly, finally got home.
Yesterday. Hugh came down. We went to the pub, scoffed someone's birthday buffet, still don't know who, came back, ate ribs and cheese, and drank amazing wine for hours. That was a lot of fun!
Today. Studhambury music festival. Sean, Catherine and my godson Joseph are coming down. Tomorrow a really good friend of mine Sam, is coming down in the afternoon. I may make home in one piece yet. May.

Don't Panic.

Awake. coffee in, Beth and abbey at the vets. Flight this evening, so I'll get packed then, once I've got my suitcase out of the garage. This morning I was thinking, I'll lived out on the edge of the awful, over half my life. I've had long periods were I've not dealt with it very well, I'm really only really beginning to deal with it, 22 years in. So, my advice is, no matter how terrible things are looking,  and how low it makes you feel? Don't panic. The terrible has a way of showing you the great, usually where you were least expecting it.

Shave.

I fly to England tomorrow evening. I'm not flying alone, Beth picked up a ticket yesterday. I'm really glad she's coming, having said I was going to be ok about my nan's funeral, it turns out I've been quietly in pieces about it for weeks.
Are we packed? No. Have I had the haircut I insisted I have to have before I leave? No. Have I had the shave that I need, in order to go for the haircut? No. Hmm. You've got an ticket, right? I did get it really late, and change it on the day I was supposed to fly, but I do have a ticket. Do you have an international plug thingy, so you can use your computer? Ah…maybe.
Everything is running as close as it can, without failing. Business as usual.

Late night musing.

its not really that late, 11:40. I'd been asleep having come back from infusion, enjoyed a chipolte, with the really hot sauce, and then passed out on the couch for a few hours. Its always like this after an infusion, my body has to reset, and absorb this months fight. I chatted to my infusion nurses about how my odds of the awful were going up. We all agreed, I'm not at the coin flip stage quite yet.
Iwas sitting next to someone new this time, a really cool bloke, there with his daughter, who was helping him out. He's in a wheelchair, and we spent the hours chatting about this and that, both landing on the drugs we actually like taking. Tysabri is incredibly useful, if a lot dangerous.  Dope? Easy now. A discussion on how to avoid overdoing pot brownies, and the tragedy of the never ending munchies, ensued. Total hoot, really nice guy. We asked each other when each others next infusion was. Hope to see him again.
Chatting to people who are in the same trouble I am, negates all bullshit, and opens the conversation up in ways you would not believe. Yoga for MS is the same. I've had to miss the last month or so, running pillar to post, but I'm looking forward to getting back to it in September.
I've always loved talking to people, the irony is, that now that my physical access for going out as much as I'd like is fading, the conversations I'm having, are getting better and better.
Props out to The Breeders, great late night writing soundtrack.

Drop-tastic.

I've been sleeping in for the last few days, by which I mean I've slept until 6:30am, sometimes even 7am! Not today. Abbey, pleased as punch to see me last night, has decided that breakfast should be served around 4:30am this morning. She's wrong about that.  Kitchen floor sighing and huffing,  will not bring 6am around any quicker. She's now randomly wandering around downstairs, tired and little confused.  Welcome to my world.
Today is infusion day. Not a moment too soon. Yesterday proved foot drop-tastic, as all my energy flushed itself away. 3 MS stuntman maneuvers followed, including a near fall, where two great lemon cake slices where thrown into the air, never to be seen again.
Odds of certain death? -1 in 3300. Bring it on, my feet could do with the help.

Cool weekend.

This weekend is turning out great! Beth and I got to the hotel just after midnight Saturday morning. Surprised them, hey we're expecting us Friday.  Nice sleep, then we got up Saturday, and explored St Joseph's, which I really liked. Starting calculating the house prices, swiftly moved on. Saturday night, pre wedding meet and greet on the deck at the top of th hotel, brilliant. Then, off to a restaurant, fantastic food, and then, back to the hotel bar. Behaved remarkably well.
Today, up, really nice crepes for brunch,.I then did the unheard of, and took a walk on my own to see the yacht that came in earlier. They raised the bridge, I hadn't seen that in years. Trotted back, room done, chilling out before getting ready for the bus to the wedding. 315? Sure,I'll be ready for that.

Slow movem e n t.

Fell asleep at the dining table again last night, no stunt work involved. Today, we are off to Michigan for the weekend to Beth's cousin's wedding. Should be a hoot! Am I ready for the trip? Sort of. The idea of being there is very appealing,  but the message hasn't reached my legs yet, which are happy to crash the day out.
I did see the original Rollerball this morning, James Caan skating around a burning, bloody track, whilst the crowd chants "Jonathon! Jonathon!" Strangely inspirational, time for me to get my arse in gear.

Sleep fall.

I must of passed out sitting at my dining table. I know this, as I just woke up falling from a chair, which ended up on its side, 1/2 a second before I hit the floor. I don't think I broke anything, though I can feel a nicely bruised side developing, like a badly taken Polaroid. It's not the first time I've woken up where I shouldn't be, the worst was hovering at the top of my stairs, just about to fall down them. Adventure sleeping. Bugger.

Risk Management.

The drug I infuse every month was safe, the odds of the awful 1/10,000 , unless I picked up the JC Virus, which I've now got. My odds are still good -1/3,300. Quite a fall in the odds, but still doable. I know what the downside can be somewhat fatal, and I'm still into it. I never thought that I'd end up thinking this way. But, what's the choice? Wheelchair / bedridden or walking, with the outside chance of an immediate end. I'll take the stroll.

Easy Now….

Great evening, eating with Beth and Stewart down at Easy Street. I picked the New Orleans Linguine, always really good there, and the Whisky Punch, having asked for a drink that could do the job quickly.
The booth behind me contained the modern lovers. I watched their evening develop in Stewart's eyes. The growing shock, playing out across his face, told me the tale of the love booth. He was posh South African, she was in his line of fire. As the event headed further south,  they briefly came to their senses, and left.
"The dinner is over, the eating has just begun."
Ooh……
Dinner, drinks, great conversation, and porno cabaret. Top night.

Journey.

Our journey from illinois to Ohio took a long time yesterday. After a few stops and starts, we found ourselves in a massive traffic jam, going nowhere fast, crawling through Indiana. We were trapped between 18 wheelers for about an hour. I did not have a CB, and Smokey was not involved.
There were warnings for roadworks, so we thought there must be a lot of work up ahead. We inched forward. We were  in the American version Godard's Le Weekend. Bugger. Forward again.
Eventually we came upon flashing police lights. To the right, a long way off the road, in the brush, was a truck on its roof. Not road works, a massive accident. There was no ambulance, so hopefully the driver got out ok.
On we went, past Mechanicsburg. There is a Teutopolis in Illinois, I know who I'd pick in a robot fight.  The plucky mini robots of Mechanisburg? Or the behemoth from the stars that is Lord Teutopolis! I think illinois shades it,...

Colossus Penguin.

I woke up this morning, pooch fed, coffee in, and then read this in The Telegraph:
Fossils have just been unearthed in Antarctica, showing a race of giant penguins that used to roam the continent 40 million years ago. How big? Over 2 metres tall from beak tip to toes, and they weighed around 18st 2lb.
"Would you like some fish? Whale, perhaps?"
This is why I like reading The Telegraph. I know its a tad right wing, and can sometimes come across like a grumbling old man, staring into his now cold coffee, bemoaning the state of the world, whilst looking for which cake to pick next.
"Eccles if possible, none of this foreign rubbish!"
 But, the articles are always well written, and likely to make my early morning coffee really interesting. Giant penguins?!! Get them in a zoo, if you can. I don't know how the creationists are going to try and spin this one, I'm fairly sure they would have made the Ark list heavily, and sink a little, if they were around.
The world has an awful lot to give up, as long as we don't burn it first.

Roll Out

Back to Columbus today. Off to Michigan for a wedding Friday. Back to Columbus Monday. Infusion Tuesday. Leave for England Friday night. Whew! I got a suit on the back of that, felt like the right thing to do. Shirt? Tie? Sure, they must be here somewhere.
 Do I have the shoes? Yeah. I have to dig my Churches out of the closet. When Williams and I shared a flat, we found somewhere you could get Churches, which I think are the best shoes you can buy, really cheap. Shoes, then food. If anyone broke into the flat? Steal the shoes first.
The next two weeks are way more packed than I thought.  It lets up Saturday week, when I land. Wish me luck.

Bad News.

The news is  constantly on the search for the awful, even when its not really there. The parties hate each other, and bury great ideas from either side under a barrage of bullshit. Its not news that no one likes each other, or that the world is turning to shit. Report the truth of what you see, don't steroid the abysmal up, we get it. And no, you can't come to my party, I could do without a scare report on the dip.

Friday fish CLUB!

Last night, we went out to the pub for some fish and chips. Of course that means fish and crisps over here. Heresy! I had to order fish and fries, which came with cottage cheese as the side. What?! Actually, cottage cheese works really well. The mustard I saw someone putting onto their fish? That'll haunt my dreams for a while. And? The fish was great. Malt vinegar, not the balsamic I was offered earlier in the week, very nice.

We had come in just as food service was closing, 9pm. Finished up, 10pm strikes. 

BOOM! BOOM! Everybody in the place!

From nice bar to full on club in seconds. Hilarious!

Good food and cabaret, can't be beat.

Cars.

Up. Coffee, fed dog, and  a slick looking white Infiniti convertible in the garage. Cars don't really turn my head, but this one, is fucking cool! Its the one where the roof folds down into the trunk. This is one of the perks of being in the Miglin family. You never know what cars are going to turn up. Beth asked if I wanted to see the Model T. You've got a Model T? Breakfast.

Foody Judy

My days down here appear to be structured around what I'm eating. Today was no different. We went to Cerro Gordo to Judy's Kitchen, home of the fantastic pies we get every time we come to Illinois. Their lunch is none too shabby either. Cowboy burger: 1/4 pounder, onions, cheese, barbecue sauce, on Texas Toast. Serve with loaded fries? That'll do nicely, though I think eating maybe over for the day. For now.
Ooh, and I forgot the peach cobbler with ice cream I had for dessert. LUNCH!

Rip Van Mexican

I don't remember a lot about yesterday. I do remember lying down listening to plays on Radio 4 Extra. I know I went to the LazBoy in the front room. Chilled out and leant in. The next thing i remember is being woken up to go out for a Mexican at 8:30, which was great. Then, I got a chocolate milkshake on the way home. It was really good. And thats it. I'm sure great thoughts were had, but they chose to wait for another day.

Ice Cream Ambush.

If you find yourself in Urbana Ilinois, make sure you go to the Courier Cafe. Hand dipped milkshakes, great food, huge desserts! My advice? don't start with a hand dipped milkshake, pile through a load of top food, cane a Headliner, ice cream under a tower of whipped cream,  and expect to come out feeling anything, except that you would never like to eat again. Until the next day, when I looked the menu up online...

Who Art In…?

Yesterday, we got to meet the hospital chaplain, maybe. Conservatively dressed, heels a little too high, eyes reassuringly thousand yard starey. Very nice. She then pitched us all doing the Our Father together. Bugger. That one's been a while. Just how lapsed am I? No worries.
I was bought up Irish Catholic, and like an old Status Quo tune, you start it, I'll remember all the words. Turns out, nobody knew exactly who she worked for. The first thing that crossed my mind was,
"She's been thrown out of here three times today already!"
Now I think she was a Gideon Ninja. Appears from nowhere, does the nice, vanishes...

Chicken Fried Steak

We were sat this evening, enjoying the special, chicken fried steak. The question was then timidly asked

"What's in it?"

We all agreed that it didn't look like chicken. A fried hamburger? We asked our waiters. They shrugged.

"Great though isn't it?"

No argument there. It tastes amazing!

"What is it exactly?"

Alton Brown, over to you.

It's cheap steak, fried, like a chicken.

"Ooh.Chicken Fried Steak, you mean?"

" Duh...."

As you were.

Awake-ish

I woke up. My left hand decided I was moving too early, and shut down. It's decided to stop sulking now, and is operating like a teenager, who doesn't want to get up for school.
"I am up. I am. God! You're always so horrible to me..."
This happens to me a lot. I get to play the neuro-lottery every morning, seeing what it is I have to work with that day. Is a pain in the arse, but 22 years into MS? I'll take it.
I was thinking this, as I read another story of someone dying tragically from MS. It's usually 20 years.   Ropey morning starts aside, and days that dwindle into dust, I'm actually doing alright.
If you can physically do what you want, but it isn't happening exactly how you want, right now? Stop fucking whining. Enjoy the walk

Massive Attack.

On the way to Beth's mum and dads, we stopped at Shelton fireworks. They have a store either side of the Indiana border, as you can't buy them in Illinois or Ohio. People were coming out of the store with small bags of fireworks, looking happy, and a little devilish, they knew what was coming. Beth went in, while Abbey and I waited in the car. she came out with a trolley full of fireworks, with names such as The Tsunami and the Massive Attack. Ooh, this is going to be a lot of fun.
After completing our run through the death weather, we rolled up to her mum and dads. Beth's brother John and his wife Kate turned up, we had pizza, then headed off to Beth's best friend Leslie's farm. John and his best friend Travis went out and set the fireworks up. they know exactly what they are doing, so the apocalypse that came next, was perfectly safe. My favorite? the one which swiveled left and right firing rockets. Amazing display, fantastic end for Beth and I's birthday week.
Fireworks done, a superb cake, made by Leslie's son Max. Thank you to to the pyros and the baker. Couldn't have been any better...

Up.

I slept most of last night, woken up to have a nice plate of pasta, dozed off again, and found myself starting Saturday very early. What to do?

Watched 6 bullets, the Jean Claude Van Damme anti human trafficking film. The solution is to blow everything up, and kill all the baddies, badly.

Now listening to Radio 6, a nice way to glide into the day, after all that Van Damme kerfuffle.

Questions

Home from Hocking Hills, nap turns to a nice long sleep. Day is done,right? No. Let's go check out our good friends acting at Schiller, in The Barber of Sevillle. That was great! Let's go say hi and go home? No. Let's all go to Easy Street and have some food and do some drinking. Lovely. It's after 12, home now, right? Wrong. Let's go to Thurmans and drink some more. Fantastic! It's 2:30, we're done now? Yes we are. You may now go home for a lovely drunk extension of the sleep you had earlier.

Top night!

Hocking Hills

Beth is over working in Logan, so I'm sitting outside the Hocking Hills visitors centre. I already checked that I wasn't hallucinating before, and have had a wander around the pencil sharpener museum. Weather perfect, view amazing. That'll do nicely.

We then went for lunch at theCedar Falls Inn. Great food, and really chilled out. We then went about a bit, looking at stuff. There's a lot to look at down there. Last stop an Ice cream from Ralphs, a butter pecan with pistachio . Now home. Time for a nap.

True Horror.

Last night talk turned to horror films. I love a really good horror film, the more intense and creepy, the better. I'll even put the shitty "Bang! Crash!" ones on in the background. The films I like the most, are those that have tone, and create their own space. The best horror films exist in a place that you are happy to immerse yourself into  for a couple of hours, take the plunge, and come out the other end shaking your head, " whew..."

My absolute favorites are the ghost stories, where everything is implied. Ugetsu, The Haunting  and a new film, A Field in England are great at this.

I know a horror film has got it right, when I'm glad I'm watching it in the day, and not late at night on my own...

And we're off....

Up. Beth had to get to Cincinnati for work today, so the three of us were out in the garden, Beth and I drinking coffee,  Abbey bombing up and down the yard, by 5:30am this morning. My right hand even decided to join us for an early breakfast, having slept in late yesterday.
Today is going to be hot. 92 degrees, if you don't mind! I foresee much of today being a wash, I'm glad Abbey and I got to play early. This evening is going to be fun, I'm going out with Joe and Mark, for the sort of drinking I really like. Knocking about with good mates, chatting shite. I'm sure I shall be writing later to complain that I appear to be living on Crematoria, out of The Chronicles of Riddick.

And Relax...

The coffee of  today has run out. I woke up unable to feel my right hand at all. This, with the coffee push, did make me verbally swing at will. Having read it back,  I don't regret one word of it. This is how most people with MS feel, and keep to themselves. I see it as my solemn duty to stand for all of us, and say what decent people will not.
I'm not having a pop at anybody, it's more an imaginary fight, that never comes up as I apparently emit a don't fuck with me on this, ever, vibe.
Words hurled,  feel much better and have been putting about listening to the radio, and writing more tunes. All is well,  everyone have a lovely day. As you were.....

A little ranty

If I'm questioned on what it is I do, why I don't do more, my reflex response is,
"Go fuck yourself!" I can't abide ignorance, usually pitched by those who couldn't walk 5 feet in my shoes without breaking down, weeping, and praying for the MS to stop. I wouldn't wish MS on my worst enemy. But, it is what it is. I'll get on with dealing with it, doing what I can when I can. Doubt me on this if you like, and feel free to fuck off.

Home Solo.

It's 1:45am. I appear to have started this week early. In the kitchen, the world service, in the front room, Resodent Evil : Retribution, where I'm typing, Radio 6. This is what happens when I get the house to myself. Wake up whenever I like, make sure there is some noise around the house. Abbey is with Beth, and I do miss the tinkle of her collar when she's gone. Abbey that is....
I've spent my week processing loss, and enjoying the memories I have of my nan.
Beth is back on Tuesday I think. How many horror films can I fit in by then? Bet it's a lot.

Jizz Rab.

Beth and Abbey have decamped to Illinois until Tuesday. I spent today watching films, a documentary that set my teeth on edge, Kidnapped by God, and enjoyed some of the ribs that we got from the Jazz Rib Fest on Friday night.

When we arrived at the festival it was late, and raining slightly. The main stage was pumping out cool modern jazz into the darkness. We walked a block and a half, top parking, on a meter no less, and walked into the rib corridor. The smell was unbelievable, everyone was wandering around very happy. It was so good, I've got the t-shirt.

This evenings rib dinner put me into a lovely food coma. I'm now up, more films? No more documentaries I hate, though it's very relaxing to heckle the witless on screen,  as they try and justify their bullshit.

Still thinking about my Nan, Beth sent me a lovely picture of her and I. I'm going back in August, I already decided to spend a few weeks, celebrate her, and to catch up with people I adore, that I don't see near  enough anymore.  And I did call it the Jizz Rab festival.

Nan.

Yesterday, after I found out about my nan, I thought I wouldn't sleep at all, even though I felt exhausted. At some point my body decided to do the decent thing, and shut me down.

I woke up this morning knowing I had to get a hold of people back home, to make sure they were ok, and explain the change in my travel plans.

 I was due to fly Wednesday night. I was rushing back to see my nan for the last time. Beth and I were in a traffic jam coming through Indiana, when I got the call I was dreading.

"Nan died Si."

I sat in shock for a while,cried, and then told Beth all the great memories I have of her.

 My nan was proper old school, she enjoyed life, no matter how difficult it got. She lived through the London blitz, and took no rubbish from anyone, ever.

Married to my Grandad, a devout Irish Catholic, it was never said what she was. Atheist? She was just-not that interested in this Jesus business.

Grandad would take us to church, Nan would have a great breakfast ready for us when we got back. She liked the Irish catholic social club St. Vincent's, we'd go there most weekends when I was a kid. 

She loved the people, the bands,the dancing, and the bingo. Church just wasn't her thing. And there was never any issue with it,ever. Ever. It took until I was older to realise this was a little unusual. 

People loved her for who she was, and she loved them right back.

She had my back, my whole life, I loved talking with her and being around her. Truly decent, always smiling, I am going miss her, so much. 

Rest easy Nan. You showed me what is important, and what truly means something. Job done xxx

Handy. Really? Well...

A toilet has one very specific, incredibly useful job. It is the bouncer, that lets last nights dinner know it's time to leave.
"Now, we've all had a good night. Let's not have any trouble."
The nightmare is being in someone else's house, and realizing too late, that this particular toilet is in a snit. The debris remains.
"This is going nowhere. Can't wait to meet everybody."
Fuck.
Cue Dowd DIY, which entails taking the lid off, and fishing around hoping for the best. I thought I broke everything, at least twice. Debris remains.
"Where is everyone, I can't wait to see you explain this shit."
Bugger.
Dowd DIY continues.
And then, resolution, everything back to normal.
Wow. I genuinely didn't see that coming. Nor did the porcelain throne, which flushed in a huff.
"Hmm. Ok, you got me."
Handy? Really? No. Really lucky? Yes.

Stand

Since it's one of those days, here's something I truly believe. The friends I have that are the closest to me, know how to stand, and not back off when the storm rolls in. They are usually people who've had their back against the wall, with nowhere to go but forward.
I know, and like people who head for high ground when the awful arrives. They are just not the core, the people who I would look to in the clutch
. Bit much? It is true though, I'll give it that. Nap.

Called in

When I'm told my gran has stopped eating, isn't/can't drink fluids, her heart is packing up, and is being transferred  to a hospice "to make her comfortable.", I know I'm getting on a plane.
I'm going to fly Wednesday, get in Thursday morning, and stay at my old mans until the following Wednesday. That's the plan I have for now. And to get a ticket. Should be cheap right? They want to sell those last seats.....bugger. So, immediate evac, see everyone soon. Si.

Seated slumber

I've decided that when we move next, there has to be a space for a Lazboy. I just had an amazing nights sleep in one at Jan and Carls. I always knew they were good, but that good?!! Our house is a very sweet old Victorian, designed before the genius of the Lazboy arrived, and therefore doesn't have the space.
I've tried out other super relaxing chairs, particularly the one in the infusion suite, but it doesn't touch the slumber the Lazboy insists on. Ah.....
Storm was a coming, it seems to have changed its mind. Let's see how long that lasts.

Midwest Storm Warning.

Awake. Lightning is flashing every couple of seconds and the sky is growling in the distance. Outside the city, the storm is way more primal. All I could hear sitting at the back door,  was the storm gathering pace, and a toad, looking for somewhere safe to hide. The sky is lighting up a little less now, the storm has decided to move on, there is plenty of wide open farmland to play in. I never zsaw weather like this when I lived in England. Relentless, potentially lethal, and here, apparently.
Not out in the farmland at all, just outside where I am. I just saw lightning, strike the golf course.The thunder is getting louder, the rain intensifying, as the ground shakes. Not a night to be out camping.
My weather report.
"This one, best watched through a window, inside a grounded house."

Hangover end .

Down here in Monticello, golf course as the back garden, weather amazing. Hangover sticking around like an unflushable turd. It's not a bad hangover, more like a bossy aunt, prodding you to get ready.
"Great uncle Tony will be here soon. Spiff yourself up, you know he likes the young'uns smart."
"Ah hah....."
"I don't have a great uncle Tony, and I know where this bullshit was going. Nap.

Poison Pineapple

I puffed and chuffed  my way into the morning. Woken by a barking, lending fool, I was then turfed from my repose on the sofa, by the sound of a breakfast seeking pooch, flying down the stairs. Fuck. I staggered into the kitchen, whacked the coffee in, and hoped for the best.
Some sips later, I went from grumpy to merely churlish. Lots to do. Coffee in, I put the rubbish and recycle out, bought a suitcase up from the garage, and am now typing, letting the poison pineapple alcohol of last night, leave my system.
Abbey is fed, and ready to play. Good luck with that, though in my heart I know it's going to happen. When offered an alcohol soaked piece of pineapple to eat, initiation or not, illegal hooch based? Best left, though to honest, total hoot. Would I do that again? Yeah.
Keys with Yury, my one disaster of last night. Everything else seems to be here, I'll take that as a win.

Home sweet home.

Jeni Bauers love letter to Columbus summed up a lot of how I feel about living here. When I landed here 12 years ago, expecting to be going to live in Chicago, I had no idea how things were going to work out. I'd come from London, what is this Columbus you speak of? It took me a month or so before I decided,
 " This place is pretty relaxed.  Good food, fun bars, everyone seems cool. Best find something to do."
First up, improv at Carolyn Hardings class. That was cool, what next? Shakespeare? Ooh, never done that before. Who is going to book me to take a crack at that? Bless your heart Actors Theatre, gutsy move on your part. I'll do this. And do the standup I left when I got sick in London. Fantastic!
What? Ill, can't do any more.  Bugger.
The improv people have still got space? Cool. The actors would let me back in, even though I'm too ill to work with them? They know I'd do it if I could? I can move around as MS dictates, and find somewhere to land?
Why would I live anywhere else? Exactly. Cheers Columbus. Love ya x

Tungsten

Tungsten, one of the naturally hardest elements. The reason our lightbulbs used to work as well as they did. Best fuck that up then.

This happens all the time, fixing that which isn't broken, surrounding the lesser product with the glow of the new. Digital v vinyl is a great example, trading the quality for immediacy. Do I use the new? Yep, but I do miss the warmth of old. Netflix, so immediate, digital projection, so easy. Better quality? Not even close. I write this whilst listening to tunes on my iPhone....Careful what you wish for.

Changing of the guard.

Once a month I go to a neurology infusion suite in Gahannaa, and infuse the help I need. MS cannot be cured, only delayed. The drug I infuse, Tysabri, though dangerous, is the best defense against the MS attack, which  never ends. The drug is in and I need to take a couple of days to let the blood settle. Sounds bizzare, but I can actually feel the change, as the guards form serried ranks in my blood, repelling the never ending awful.  Trippy as you like, but really effective.
If you need me to do anything in the next few days? Best let that go.

Sausage Gravy

This morning Beth shared with me what we had left of the sausage gravy. This is a genius food of the Midwest. I finished mine, picked up my guitar and have only stopped playing to write this. Infusion, right? But I've got tunes to do...

5am and all is

Up, coffee, no banana. Toast? Half of that top scone we got in Cleveland? We got it last week, will it still be? Yogurt maybe. Pixies on Radio 6, so I get to bob my head whilst deciding. garden very wet, it must have rained yesterday? I don't remember much about yesterday, I did sleep very well. Should have a shave before heading up to the infusion suite. I don't need them offering me a dollar, and asking if I wouldn't mind moving on. Toast.

Skipping Stones

Today isthe day before my infusion. I have felt the last one preparing for its exit for the past couple of days. Today it finished packing its bags and left. I had a few plans for today, yoga, that creative social networking thingy. My day then turned into awake, asleep, awake, asleep, currently awake. How long will that last? No idea. My body is a stone, skipping as best it can, until I pass out. Unlike a stone on the water, I get to make a resurgence. Well, more a slow nod than a resurgence....

Perfect Friday night.

Yesterday we went to the baseball. The first thing we saw was skydivers parachuting onto the field. What!! The game was excellent, games, songs, families everywhere, total hoot. And we won! Then, a firework display, a really good firework display, after the match ended. My uncle loved it, I did too. I told him
"That's why I love living here, this is just something that's done." Brilliant!

Happy get out England and such.

Up. As ever, coffee, banana, and a fed pooch. Last night was a hoot. Off to the races at Scioto Downs,  miniature Ben Hur hoofing around the track. Free to get in, food, drink and bets you can live with losing. Then, the Racino, where we played loud games we didn't understand but were a good laugh.  Onto  Buckeye donuts where we began to watch the downtown firework display, whilst eating batons and drinking milk. Beth the took us on a trip around the inner periphery,  to get closer to the booming apocalypse. We then bailed as the booming rumbled to a close and headed home. Cool.
This morning, heard a reading of the Declaration of Independence on the radio. Ah, sorry about that. As you were America. Keep on trucking, take it from a very happy expat, you are a top place to live, and  fireworks when it's warn? Genius!

Door policy.

Today I stood back to let an older lady come through the door to the store  first. I didn't realize the door was heavy. She said
"I'll just take the weight then..."
I thought
" Oh fuck off you ricket riven witch. Get back to your day job, haunting the dreams of lost children."
Too much? I do love the rhythm of ricket riven witch....

LSE

Up early listening to the world service on NPR, which runs throughout the night. As often happens, a serious, world wide event got reported, by someone from the London School of Economics. How did I end up going to university there? By accident.
My first choice was York, where my argument that my bad grades didn't matter as one of my History teachers had bet the other 50 pounds that I'd be the only student to get an A, didn't wash. He was right, York can get fucked. Next up Warwick university, whose campus had swimming pools, fields, and seemed really friendly. Got the right points, buta not the exact grades they wanted. Out. Coming in third, the LSE. No fields, no swimming pool, that London. Not for me, right?
After the exam results came out they started sending me info on halls of residence. I still didn't get what was going on. Come on Warwick! Nothing from them, more info from LSE. I finally got it, and trudged off to that London.
It turned out to be the luckiest move ever. Great mates, fantastic education, surrounded by people from all over the world. My thanks to York and Warwick, your diss turned out very well for me. Oh, and get fucked!

Hmm

Watching CSI Miami, murder based on sororities. Heads up, the rest of is learned how to make friends. Doesn't mean I don't like people who were in fraternities or sororities, does mean I always see a self entitled , ring wearing blowhard as a cunt.
Shouldn't have drunk that extra coffee. Still twats though.

Early Start

Up. Coffee, banana, dog looking for breakfast that is still an hour away, laptop still dead. Radio 6 streaming ,the air of the day wcomfortable, for now. Having written yesterday that I had to stop, I changed my mind when the shopping troopers came back. We went down Easy Street around nine and ate and drank until twelve. Came home, food comas all round. Wonder what today will bring?

And, stop

It's great having john and sue over. The last couple of days have been a load of fun, and I've been doing a lot more than I usually do. That came to a halt today. I knew I was fucked and had to stop. They and Beth are out shopping at Easton, whilst Abbey and I chill out around the house. The signals were legs collapsing , foot drop, hands failing,  and a computer that still lies dead. Worth it? Every second.

Computer fuckery

Fuck. I know not why, but my computer has decided to join Steve Jobs in the sky. The keyboard is like a pissed old granny in a three legged race, all over the place, whilst getting nowhere. I'm typing on my iPad mini, which is giving off a "told you laptops were shit" vibe. Yeah, but it's easier to type on.
"Whatever.let me know when you want to get something done. You can get a keyboard for me you know...."
Oh. Bugger, Genius Bar it is.

Saturday night.

We had plans yesterday, the sky decided otherwise, as it poured like a bath throughout the afternoon / early evening.
"We can't watch anymore Pawn Stars"
We can, but Beth the Akala of the evening, wandered up to Thurmans and put our name down. I love Thurmans. and Easy Street, my local pubs. Relaxed, had  a laugh, ate until we went way beyond where we should have stopped. Shuffled home, food coma. Great evening.

Saturday.

Up. Coffee, banana. Syrupy outside, but I've got the Danny Baker show streaming, Great Saturday start. John and Sue got in from Chicago yesterday. We ate some great food we picked up at Thurns, a fantastic butcher, just down the road from us. Sat outside for a few hours chatting and laughing, realized we were all exhausted and crashed early. We are off to Comfest ktoday. Weather is looking to be sunny but brutal. Lets see how that goes. Fortunately, Beth and I live in a magic land of air-conditioned pubs, gently soothing the sweaty brow, whilst you get thoroughly pissed

Visit.

My uncle John and his good lady Sue, will be flying in later today, for a week. Can't wait. I haven't seen them since last year at Pawleys island, where I spent the week whacked out on very powerful sci-fi drugs, to fight the tri-neuralgic nerve pain I'd picked up. I'm a lot more together now and looking forward to taking them around Columbus. Comfest, the horse races, baseball, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, and all the bars that I like. Actually, maybe a week isn't long enough...

Ginger Awakening.

I've been drinking iced ginger tea fir a few days now. I brew the tea, fill a glass with ice, pour in carefully-ish, and enjoy. Much like the reading glasses I now own, I've been asking myself, "Why on earth wasn't I doing this before?"
I have a history of not doing things that I know will be good for me. I now have a fitbit and walk 2 to 3 miles a day. Why wasn't I doing that before? I play my guitar everyday, for years I wouldn't even pick it up, "My hands don't work.." Bollocks. Turns out the more I play, the better I get.
Its really easy to settle into a habit of saying, "I would, but…." Waste of time. MS means that I rarely get called out,
 "Bless him, he's ill.." No. If I'm being an idiot, call me out. Ginger ice tea? Amazing.

Magooed

Every since I cheated on an eye test when I was five, looked with my good eye over the cardboard, my eye sight has been screwed. The Sunday dinner, burned in my parents memory, when I said
"Why is my right eye so blurry?" heralded multiple trips to the opticians, all of which ended up with them saying
"If you'd bought him here 3 years ago."
'He cheated on his eye test."
"Oh. Ah well…"
MS swoops in, pale discs behind the eyes, meaning that my eyes don't connect properly to my brain. Oh shit.
Prescriptions that turn sight into a cartoon contest. Fun, but useless.
Now I have the right prescription and reading classes, to offset the contacts, for close up work. Fantastic! This is what you lot see? Ooooh…. My eyes are still buggered, but they feel like the kid being let into the big room.

Anti Norm

I just found a song I thought I'd lost on garageband. I'll have to put the tune back together (remember it), I do like the lyrics a lot.

Warrior of the Anti Norm

Walk around town
I'm well fucking lairy
DM's, a Crombie
And a new Fred Perry
Everybody loves it
I fucking hate it
Its number one
I just don't rate it.

Walking around
Pouring bile and score
I'm the warrior of the anti norm

Here's my girlfriend
She's called Mary
Covered in tattoos
Well bloody scary
Everybody loves it
She don't like it
Number one
she thinks its shite tip

Hand in hand
Pouring bile and scorn
Lovers of the anti norm.

Here's my kids
Lucretia and Terry
Whiplash smart
Well bloody lairy
Everybody loves it
tThey both hate it
Number one?
Load of old fake shit

Arm in arm
Pouring bile and scorn
Happy family
Of the anti norm.

We walk around town
Well bloody lairy
DM'd, Crombies
New Fred Perrys
Happy so happy
Pouring bile and scorn
First family
Of the anti norm.

Promote? Alright.

My reverberation page has been offering me free promotion for a long time. I've always ignored it, I didn't feel i had enough songs up, and I figured it was a sneaky way to put me to get me hooked, so that I'd started paying. Right on both counts, though I now see the point of doing it. It will also force my hand, so that I finally record and put out the songs I've had for ages. I play all the time now, and feel ready to pitch.

Travule

Last night Yury and I went to the monthly improv drop in at theWild Goose. A load of people playing games, no pressure, everybody cool. Find. There is a weekly one st Gressos that humidity saw off last Thursday. I'm definitely going this week, it will be the last time I can go until the end of July. Turns out I'm going back to England a lot sooner than I thought.
 I'm going once I've bought a ticket. I'm beginning to figure that the price isn't going down, no matter hard I throw hope at the ticketing screen. For what?! Is the plane made of gold? It won't fly properly you know, weighed down under the shame of those vastly over charged seats. I remember when Beth and I first got together, when the choice was between a 400 pound ticket, or pitching in on Air India for a few hundred quid. Happy days.
"We didn't have all that new fangled in seat screen entertainment, but we was happy. You could keep your shoes and your jacket on going through security, no cock fiddling by the guards. Take some water with you, take your luggage on for free, heavy as you like, with no need to make weight like a boxer.
The planes are a lot nicer now though,  less like a 6 hours sweating cattle truck. Hmm. Send me a private plane, we'll call it quits."

Band-ology

I used to play in bands. I loved doing it, such a laugh,  and it didn't matter if it all went sideways, we were just building stories as we went. When my hands packed up I knew I had to stop. I thought I'd never do it again. I haven't felt my hands properly for over two decades,  so, no chance, right? Well, maybe.
The reason I stayed away from being in a band, was that I couldn't guarantee I was going to be able to play. But, if i write the songs and can pitch them, playing if can, just singing if I can't, that could work out, right? Having performed on my own doing my songs, I think they deserve a band to pitch them. I have no idea who, I just think it would be fun. Columbus is full of great musicians, Im sure I can get someone interested.

Song Sung Never.

Having walked outside, and been hammered by the humid, I decided to stay in. Yury came over with his new guitar and we began to write songs. Looking back, we didn't write one that was fit for public performance. Titles like Tooth Fairy, Disaster Train and No Child of Mine, don't really hint at the darkness that lies within. Good fun though!

Saturday.

Last night, having trudged through the soup, I got to spend the evening watching Pinter. I love Pinter and the run I saw at Betrayal was excellent. Watching people I know playing space and subtext that well, was a treat. 

Piled home with Yury, having picked up fried chicken and a pie. I would have just chucked the fried chicken in the microwave,for a soupy heat up. He put it in the oven, and crisped it up nice.

Up early, even though Beth and Abbey are in Illinois. Pavlov's dog my arse! That pooch has me trained to be up everyday, getting her breakfast ready, so I can be rewarded with an imperious wag of her tail. 

Today? I want to go to Hamlet this evening. I'm hoping for rain until 3 so I have half a shot at making it to the park in one piece. 

Coffee, banana, don't put Abbey's food out. Got it.

That's about right?

What I just thought is somewhat, awful, but it may work. I think that anyone voting against women's basic rights, usually health, usually fat old fucks who couldn't pull muscle, must wear a monitor. Catheter it in and measure the level of sexual thrill they get from preventing the basic. If the monitor flags the voter as as loving the No a little too much , pre and such? They will be fired, and put on an odd register. That should sort that bullshit out.

Weather Wanker.

This morning is moving at treacle trudging pace. Why am I up?  I don't want to be up in this weak, slow choke, morning air, though as I type, I can feel the coffee kicking in, making a little more sense of the day. I already kicked going to the improv last night, as it would have been difficult to turn up and perform, as unconscious as I was. Tonight, I want to go to Joe's play, though it depends on how long I can stay in today.
You humid, would be stormy, soup air wanker! Even  my pooch doesn't like you, and spends most of your days snoozing, waiting for the arrival of your way more popular cousin Temperate. Have a bit of a rain, sort your shit out.

Soup.

Yesterday the weather was brutal. Topped out around 93, feeling 95, and breathing through a blocked sieve. That was the day Beth and I decided was the day we should do lots. Tried to start my car, dead. I think it came out in sympathy.
"What on earth are you two doing outside? Go back in, the football and the the air conditioning are on."
With the help of our neighbour, got the car started. Went to my Optometrist and picked up the sample contacts, which I know are going to work out way better. Beth stayed in the car as we were running the battery back in. What next?
Hit the freeways, got a little lost, ended up at a car wash that Beth told me was great. She wasn't kidding. You roll the car onto a conveyor belt, stick it in neutral, and are taken into the future. This car wash is what the Jetsons promised. And?
 Jimmy Johns where they can make a really good sandwich, quicker than you can fill your drink. Home.  Football, air-conditioning and a very nice dinner.
This morning, out playing with Abbey before the apocalypse rolls in. I know its going to be bad, the weather people are doing everything but giggling and licking their lips over it.
Air? soupy but do-able. Am I still going for a haircut and improv this evening? You bet your soggy hat.

Bark-tacula.

Abbey come in! Its 4am and Abbey, groggy but fully engaged, is barking up a dream battle, at whatever smell it is she objects to, in the quiet of a very dark garden. She came in when I insisted that nothing was going on and that her epic early morning barking was reducing our popularity exponentially.
. She came in, headed straight for the couch and crashed out. I'm not convinced she was actually awake at all during any of this. I'm a bit embarrassed about the noise, but quietly impressed that she will stand her ground, conscious or not.

Recycle day you say? Bugger.

The recycle is emptied every 2nd Tuesday. You would think I'd be able to remember that, and put out my bin out the night before. You'd be wrong. This morning , as often happens, the sound of the recycle trucks emptying the bins over the road echoed through my house. Memory restored. Bugger! I've got about 5 minutes to sort this out, or the rubbish can take another 2 week holiday in my garage. Charging(? sort of) down the garden, trailing a dog who thought this must be time to play. Dog sat confused, sorry Abbey, and I bundled into the garage. A massively full, we'd forgotten to put the bin out a few weeks ago, recycle bin sat leering at me.
"Good luck with that," it seemed to say.
Grabbed the handle of the bin and rolled it out into the alley. The weather today is predicted to top 90 degrees, it appears to be starting with some aplomb. Rolled the bin across the alley into its "Empty me now please," space.
Back through the garage into the garden. Abbey sat looking at me.
"Play now?"
Sorry Abbey, having performed a bin move that was ticket worthy, I now need a glass of water and a sit down.
"Oh…"
She'll be passed out in an hour (90 degrees and rising), and can dream of running the garden, with someone quicker than me.

DI-saturated

I went to my Optometrist yesterday, to get my yearly bad/positive? news.
Bad,
"You know there is nothing we can do about your sights except hope for the best?"
Good,
"You can still see? That's me fucked in the sweepstake." (made that bit up)
My prescription has changed, so that the awful is balanced out a little better. And my new glasses look very cool. I then had my eye's dilated, pressure checked and went on my way, looking for somewhere nice for lunch. If you've never had your eyes dilated, you look like a manga cartoon character and you have to wear shades until it wears off. I found a really good American Korean restaurant, the owner is the old head chef from Barcelona and had a fantastic lunch. I left afterwards to head down to high st, The sky above me opened like a bath. Now soaked, sight dodgy at best, I kept walking in order to find a cab before I drowned. Cab found, home in time to get ready to watch the America game, which was great! Eyes have now shrunk back from cartoon level which is good, but I kind of like the look of horror they promote in the unsuspecting viewer.

Playing the cards I'm dealt.

When I was younger, all I wanted was to play in bands with my brother Kev. If I hadn't got ill, I'd be doing that to this day. Unfortunately my hands packed up and I had to think of something else. I'd done improv and really enjoyed  it, but I'd always wondered what doing stand up would be like.
I'm funny with my mates, must be a sign, right? No it isn't. Being funny around your friends is lovely but its not what stand up is. What you need is the ability to take public criticism from hundreds of people, whilst you are learning. Not so much a skill, more being determined, and a little touched.
Even after I knew I had MS I figured, I'll do this, 20 minutes of work a day? I'm in.  20 minutes a day my arse, once comedy has you, you work the whole time, even when you think you are not. Brilliant! I'll do this I thought, and got pretty good at it. MS comes in, comedy over.
Shit what now?  Well, I married the love of my life and moved to America. Good plan, great plan! And? Hmm..
I then read the audition notice in The Dispatch for Shakespeare in the park. I'm English, how hard could that be? Really quite hard, it turns out. Loved doing that, met loads of great people. I'll do this. MS comes in, acting over. Bugger! whats left?
Improv, music, writing and comedy. Outside of the killer neurological nightmare, I'm the luckiest fucker I know.